Once Upon a Rainy Day
by Leafdiaries
Summary: Kouchou has given herself a day of freedom for her birthday, but an unexpected visitor takes her into dangerous territory. Kouchou x Seiran. Yum. Posted for Saiunkoku Fic Challenge Theme: Tremble. Seiran would make me tremble. And sometimes in a good way.


Once Upon a Rainy Day

Kouchou drew the soft-bristled brush slowly through her long dark hair, from the root to the tip, letting the strands fall in a silken cascade over her shoulder. She leaned in to the mirror at her vanity table, turning her face from left to right. Her chestnut hair curved loosely around her clean face, and the image peering back at her looked remarkably like a young girl. A brief, ironic smile touched her unvarnished lips.

"Happy birthday," she tipped the brim of a delicate teacup toward the soft-eyed little girl in the mirror before sipping the warm, sweet liquid inside.

Today, Kougarou's doors were locked, the girls and staff had been dismissed on a holiday, and Kouchou would permit no one to her presence. She would leave her skin unpainted and unpowdered, and her hair loose and flowing free, a way no one had been allowed to see her for a long time. She wore a simple silken robe and soft slippers, and planned a day of puttering about, playing in her garden and experimenting in the kitchen on some sinful dish—simple things that were impossible for her on any other day. Today was her gift to herself, a day with no masks, no lies and no one to please but herself.

Though it was only midday and all the curtains had been thrown open in her chamber, a thick gloom muted the light to a dusky pall. The lamplight above the mirror quivered from a chill wind snaking through the open doors that led from her chamber to her private garden. She shivered in her thin white robe, but refused to shut out the sounds and scents of her garden as a soft spring shower bathed the flowerbeds and blossom trees.

Just then, a sudden gust slammed her garden door back against the wall, causing her to flinch and duck her head. The wind swirled around the chamber, snuffing out all the lamps and twisting her hair into a tempest around her head. The zephyr slipped away as suddenly as it had come, and Kouchou peered up into the darkened mirror, her breath catching in her throat. Seiran stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the stark and stormy sky behind him.

Her hand went to her cheek, as if to defend it from withering exposure. Self-consciously, she kept her back turned to him, and stated as boldly as she could manage, "The house is closed today." Her voice came out a frail echo of its usual honeyed tones.

"Not to me," he replied quietly, sending a shiver down her spine.

On a normal day, she would never have even considered refusing Seiran. He rarely came to Kougarou as it was, and on the few occasions that he did, he would only take her, and he would only remain as long as necessary. Still, whenever Master Seiran called for her, she eagerly played her part. No one else compared to him. No one else exuded the masterful control and, at the same time, the dangerous vulnerability that he did. Every touch of his lips was a temptation to dance with the demon king in the forbidden fires of the underworld. For a woman who had seen it all and done it all, such a lure was impossible to resist.

Except for today.

She thought to pull her face into her usual droll smile, but somehow couldn't manage it. Without her elaborate makeup and lavish robes, without scented oils dabbed at her pulse points, without her silken tresses coiffed and bejeweled, she was unarmed and defenseless against the beast that stalked slowly toward her. Today, she was only Kouchou, and her fingers trembled around the hairbrush clenched in her grip.

She flinched again when she felt his pale hand coil around hers on the brush and then slide it from her tightened fingers.

"I've never seen you like this," he commented, his voice thickened in the heavy air. The criticism sliced through her like a whetted blade. Mortification colored her cheeks, and she was grateful for the dimmed light that at least partially hid her naked features.

From behind her, his hand rested on her arm and slid upward over her silky sleeve to her shoulder. She felt his fingers sweep across her hair dangling down her back as if he were playing the strings of some muted instrument. She quivered under his touch, her traitorous body already surrendering to him on its own, even if her mind and heart still resisted.

"When I was a child, I often brushed my mother's hair," he explained, combing his fingers down the long strands of her thick tresses. "I never tired of it."

She tried to still her reaction. Seiran had never spoken of his childhood before, no matter how drunk or intimate they had been. Normally, a thousand calculations would have spun through her mind at such an unusual revelation. Instead, she gave herself up to the soothing sound of his warm voice and the skilled touch of the brush gliding down the back of her hair.

He brought the brush up to the top of her head, very gently drawing the soft bristles across her scalp. He swept her hair back from her face and drew it across the palm of his other hand. The hushed purr that escaped her lips surprised her and made her blush. She was not used to her emotions playing freely on their own.

"I also fixed Oujo-sama's hair when she was little," he continued, a lighter tone in his voice. "I could never brush her hair like this because she wouldn't sit still that long."

Kouchou giggled, imagining the fierce Seiran trying to coax a tiny, energetic Shuurei to behave long enough to tie a pretty bow in her hair.

"Our Shuurei-chan has always been like that," she agreed, and heard his low chuckle join with hers. The harmonic melody was thrilling in a way their alcohol-induced, lust-sated laughter had never been.

"Did your mother brush your hair when you were a child?" he asked, continuing to stroke the long strands.

She roused enough to smile at some distant memory. "I had many mothers who took turns brushing my hair," Kouchou explained with a contented sigh. She closed her eyes, letting the slow, tantalizing touch of the brush lull her into forgetting whose hands controlled it. "As I grew up, they taught me all the ways they knew to tie it in ribbons and bows to please their patrons."

"It pleases me best like this," Seiran replied and let the strands slip off his hand, fanning out like a veil over her shoulders.

She caught the reflection of her smiling expression in the mirror. It wasn't her usual bemused, ironic, seen-it-all smile, but a grin of the purest pleasure.

Forgetting her self-consciousness, or actually, not caring about it anymore, she turned in her seat to look up at him, and caught a disarmingly sweet smile that lit his eyes, even in the dusky gloom. Before she realized what was happening, Seiran cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb under her eye, whisking away a tear that threatened to spill over. Clamping her eyes shut, her hand cradled his against her cheek and she pressed her lips to his palm. Her eyes fluttered open again when she felt both his hands on her face, drawing her to him as he knelt on the floor at her feet.

For just a heartbeat, his mouth poised above hers, warm, sweet breath mingling in timeless suspense, until his lips touched hers in a mere whisper. She whimpered faintly, and he nipped at the corners of her mouth, teasing her until her lips parted in a sigh, welcoming his deeper kiss. She melted against his chest when he drew her into his arms, and whispered her name against her lips.

"You're trembling," his words curled against her cheek.

"I love you," her words slipped across his ear in a warm breath.

He went completely still, and Kouchou's eyes shot open. _No…no, no…_

He pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her mouth with a shivering sigh, and then stood up, letting her hair slide through his fingers as he moved away from her.

Feeling the world fall out from under her, she clenched her fists in her lap trying to fight off the reality of her own foolishness. Her free and flowing hair had pleased him, and somehow, naively, her foolish love had tangled with it at his fingertips.

She raised her head and watched him move toward the door, stopping for a moment to look up at the rain still pouring down, making puddles on the garden path outside.

"I'll come back tomorrow when the house is open," he stated, his back still turned to her, his eyes still focused on the sky. "All right?"

She was surprised by the question. "Yes," she answered. He didn't have to ask.

"When I come tomorrow," he hesitated, "will you…wear your hair down for me?"

"Yes," she answered.

Still, he hesitated in the doorway.

"And not for anyone else."

"Never."

He nodded and disappeared into the wind and rain.


End file.
